


Two Idiots Tied to Chairs

by kalirush



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Banter, Being Tied Up But Not In That Bondage Sort of Way, Chairs, Community: fmagiftexchange, Food is Serious Business, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalirush/pseuds/kalirush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed and Ling get kidnapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Idiots Tied to Chairs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Yule Exchange at [FMA Gift Exchange](http://fmagiftexchange.livejournal.com/), for the prompt: Ed+Ling or Ed/Ling, "Near death experience"

“You,” Ed said, testing the ropes, “Are a dumbass.”

“You shouldn’t call the Emperor of Xing a dumbass,” Ling said, good-natured. “It could cause an international incident.”

“You should keep your damned mouth shut before these idiots realize who they’ve captured,” Ed pointed out.

“If I recall, it wasn’t me they were trying to capture,” Ling answered. “They wanted you, and they just assumed I was some sort of bodyguard.” He paused. “I should probably be insulted by that.”

Ed snorted. “Lan Fan should be insulted by that. _She’s_ a bodyguard; you’re just an idiot.”

“Hmm,” Ling said, “I wonder where she is? I would have thought she’d’ve rescued us by now.”

“I’m sure she would have,” he said, “If you hadn’t made a point of going off without her. I mean, she’s good, but she’s not superhuman.”

Ling shrugged.

“Watch it!” Ed protested, as his arms got crushed painfully against the back of Ling’s chair by the movement.

“Sorry,” Ling offered. “You know, I think we’d better try to find a way out of these ropes.”

“You think?” Ed said sarcastically.

Ling sighed. “It would be very convenient if you could still practice alchemy,” he said.

“Shut up and look for something sharp,” Ed advised.

“There’s the fireplace poker,” Ling suggested. Ed could feel him nod his head toward it.

Ed rolled his eyes- pointlessly, since Ling couldn’t see it. “That’s across the room, dumbass. How do you expect us to get over there?”

“Like this!” Ling said. He tensed, pushing down with his feet, and managed to scoot his chair a couple of inches.

“Ed paused. “Okay,” he admitted, “that might work. Should we do it together?”

“Fine by me,” Ling purred.

“You are a moron,” Ed told him, irritated by his tone. “One- two- three-”

Both chairs scooted over a few inches. “See?” Ling said. “Now, again-”

They scooted again. “Okay,” Ed said. “Again-”

This time, they pushed out of synch. Ed pushed too late, and he ended up pushing his chair _up_ rather than _over_. “Ed- wait- you’re-” Ling had time to protest before both chairs toppled over. “Ow,” Ling finished.

“Shut up,” Ed said, sulkily.

“Who’s the dumbass now?” Ling pointed out.

“Shut up,” Ed repeated, a little defensively. “Fuck, what are we going to do now?”

“Wiggle,” Ling advised.

“What?” Ed said.

“Shimmy,” Ling clarified. “C’mon, Ed. I bet if we shimmy hard enough, we can get over there. Like snakes.”

“Snakes are badass,” Ed said, cautiously.

“That’s right,” Ling encouraged, brightly.

“And what are we going to do when we get there?” Ed pointed out.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Ling said, confidently. “Now, shall we shimmy?”

They started wiggling. “I look like an asshole,” Ed commented, grunting.

“Assholes are round and puckered,” Ling pointed out, helpfully. “You don’t look like one at all.” The chairs moved forward slowly. Very, very slowly.

“Fine, jackass, I look like a fish. A dying fish, possibly with its head cut off.”

“I think that’s chickens,” Ling said.

“What?” Ed said, grunting with effort.

“That run around after you cut their heads off. It’s chickens.”

Ed snorted. “It’s fish, too. Trust me. Cut off their heads, little bastards take forever to stop wiggling around.”

Ling paused a moment. “You’re very morbid sometimes, you know that?”

“And you’re an idiot all the time,” Ed said, sweat breaking out on his forehead. His right arm hurt like a bitch where the weight of the chair was on it.

“That’s not what you told me last night,” Ling said, grinning.

“Shut up,” Ed told him.

“You always say that when I point out something you don’t like,” Ling said. “It’s not a very advanced debate technique. Did you know that the art of conversational war is an old and well-respected one in my country? I could get you a tutor.”

“Shut up,” Ed repeated. “Also, you are still a dumbass.”

“Is this where I cover my ears and say ‘nyah nyah you’re one too’?” Ling asked. “I’m still not completely versed in Amestrian cultural norms.” He paused. “Also, I can’t cover my ears at the moment.”

“I hate you,” Ed said.

“No, you don’t,” Ling replied, cheerfully. “I am your dear friend and comrade-in-arms.”

“Yes, I do,” Ed insisted. “You’re a mooch. And an idiot.”

“Hey!” Ling said, as his head hit into something. “We’re here. What did I tell you?”

Ed twisted, trying to see the poker. “Okay, dumbass, how do we get to it now?”

Ling started thumping his head into the stand.

“No!” Ed protested, too late. The stand, poker and all, came down on them.

“Ow,” Ed said, deliberately. “Thanks, asshole. And I still can’t get at it.”

“We will shimmy into position,” Ling advised. “And then you can try to cut your bindings.”

“You and your fucking shimmying,” Ed grumbled. “This whole thing is your fault.”

“It is not,” Ling protested. “You’re so dramatic.”

“If you hadn’t wanted those buns-” Ed said.

Ling shrugged. “They probably would have gotten us somewhere else, if it hadn’t been there.” He smiled. “They were very good buns though, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, they were,” Ed admitted, grudgingly. There was a _clang_. “Fuck, I think I got it. Hold on.” He managed to grab onto the poker with his knees, and started working the sharp bit against the ropes holding his ankles. He grunted. “I think I got it-” He strained, and pulled his left leg free, kicking the ropes away. “Okay, that’s one leg down.”

“Couldn’t you go for an arm?” Ling groaned.

“With what leverage, asshole?” Ed asked. “Look this’ll be fine.” He worked his other leg free. “Okay, hold on-”

Ed twisted, planting one foot to his right and the other on in front of him. He pushed, trying to right the chairs.

The chairs scooted about a foot and a half away from the fireplace.

“Very impressive,” Ling commented. “Still, it might be more useful to be closer to the poker. So that one of us can work our hands free.”

“Fine,” Ed said, and kicked out his legs. He succeeded in spinning the two of them, putting pressure on their arms.

“Almost there,” Ling said, encouragingly, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Ed arched his body, pushing up with his legs. They landed with a thump. “Just a second,” Ed said, I think I can reach-” Wriggling his head, he managed to tuck the poker under his chin. He kicked it and it spun. With his chin he pulled it back in. “Can you get your arm over it?”

Ling pulled experimentally. “Not quite,” he said.

“Okay,” Ed said. “Brace yourself.” He twisted his legs to the side and gave a short, sharp push, nudging the poker with his arm.

“Aaah!” Ling shouted. “You dropped my arm on it, you idiot!”

“Good,” Ed said. “It’s in the right place.”

Ling grumbled as he worked the ropes against the poker. Finally, he worked his arm free. “I got it!” he crowed, pushing himself up. He grabbed the poker and began working on his other arm.

Just then, the door swung open, revealing three men. The one at the front said “What’s going on in-” and then broke off. “They’re getting free!”

“Ed?” Ling said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed answered. As the first of the men got close, he twisted up, kicking him in the chest with both feet. Ling swung with the fireplace poker, catching one of the men in the belly. “Focus on getting free, idiot!” Ed advised.

Ling did his best, sawing at the ropes holding his ankles to the chair. Ed had his hips and legs up almost completely into the air, kicking and flailing in mad arcs around the chairs, making it difficult for the men to approach. Finally, the leader of the men tackled Ed, pinning his legs down. “Ling?” Ed said.

Just then, Ling got his ankles free. He jumped to his feet, grinning wildly, the poker held like a sword. “Unhand my friend,” he said.

“Kill the bodyguard!” the thug cried, and rushed him.

With Ling no longer tied to him, Ed managed to scramble to his feet bent over, the chair still tied to his arms.

“You bastards want some?” he shouted at the men who were coming in the door, whacking the first of them in the face with the chair.

The fight went downhill from there.

\----------------------------

Sometime later, after Lan Fan had appeared with the imperial guard to rescue them, Ed and Ling lay on the ground waiting for a carriage to take them back to the palace.

“My arm hurts,” Ling observed. “That poker went in really deep.”

“Whine, whine,” Ed said, unsympathetically. “I’ve been impaled tons of times.”

“You are so testy tonight,” Ling said. “What did I do to upset you?”

“Getting us kidnapped isn’t enough?” Ed said.

Ling shook his head. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You got us kidnapped, because of your unfortunate resemblance to the Western Sage. No, you wouldn’t still be mad at me about that.” He paused, cocking his head thoughtfully. “You’re angry because I ate the last of the pork buns, aren’t you?” he said, suddenly.

“I _told_ you, I was taking those back to the palace for Winry!” Ed yelled, sitting up and glaring at him.

Ling paused. “You realize that I can get you more pork buns, right?” he said. “I _am_ the emperor.”

Ed flopped back down. “You’re still a dumbass,” Ed grumbled.

Ling grinned. “You _really_ shouldn’t say that where anyone else can hear,” he said. “But fine- more pork buns it is. Can I help you present them to Winry?” he asked. “Perhaps in your private chambers, later tonight?”

Ed’s screams of protest echoed into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This just wrote itself.


End file.
